


No Use Crying Over Spilled Milk

by Irradiated_Demigod, LadyGraceGrey



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Actually yes bring wine, Alternate Origin Story, Emotional Baggage, F/F, F/M, Maybe wine, Mental Instability, Might turn into more, Mom's bring tissues and Ice Cream, My mind is a bad place sometimes, Narcissism, Oneshot, Past Relationship(s), Share plz
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-03 21:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5306792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irradiated_Demigod/pseuds/Irradiated_Demigod, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGraceGrey/pseuds/LadyGraceGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If I was a man, maybe his father instead, this would be easier. But I am not, and harder or no he needs me more than he needed his father. He's just a baby! The world is cruel, and I am not cruel enough. Not yet. </p><p> </p><p>A look at the story from the Mother's perspective. Real life issues that are not covered in game extrapolated on. What if the marriage we saw at the beginning, what if that was just a "Really good day." And not the norm?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lucky

Distantly I can still remember bringing Shaun home. I remember the fight we had that night, half yelling and half reminding each other with acidic tones to not wake “The baby.”

 

I wouldn't call him by his name. Neither would Nate. We hadn't agreed on the spelling of his name. And Nate had filled out his birth certificate without my consent. I wanted Sean, like the historic stories told that I had been so enamoured with in college. But my husband had wanted something modern. And I hated it.

We fought bitterly, and he had struck me eventually. Drink dulling his mind and I remember even now how bitter I was at him for that. Not for hitting me, I had probably earned that with something I had said. But with drinking. I gave that up, gave it all up so I could be a good mother. I never was a good enough wife.

 

I stopped smoking, drinking, trying to have sex. That last one was easier. It was so easy just to tell Nate it was for the baby. The truth was, I didn't want him to touch me. I didn't want to hurt. But then the hormones set in, and for whatever reason I would find myself frustrated and wanting. For what, I never got the handle of. I knew I couldn't get love or comfort from Nate, just an hour of pain as he did his business and then days of discomfort after. The first and only time I went to him, to lonely and drowning in my body’s confusing urges, he had sneered. Laughing and mocking, the blows flew and the words cut deeper. That I was too weak to be anything good for our child, that I was selfish for craving a man. That it didn't even have to be my husband. He was right, it didn't. But he took his pleasure anyways. After all the scolding he took his pleasure anyways and left me aching and hurt for a week.

 

I let him get his dirty magazines after that. Visit the bars and pick up whoever. I would be fine and I would ignore it.

 

But that night, with Shaun not a day old and my husband, his /father/ sneering at me while piss drunk, that was when I realized I was alone. I cooked good food for myself, and made sure their were TV dinners for him from then on. I exercised, and I had supplements and pills for helping me produce milk.

 

I was perfect in behavior. But my body was flawed in response. I never lost the weight, and I never made enough milk. Talking to Nate would have been a grave mistake, instead I smuggled home the powdered formula or paid a neighbor to get it. Nate would get suspicious so I took to hiding his liquor. There was a perverse satisfaction in him thinking he was drinking more than he really was. It was comical, it made me smile, to see him hungover and frustrated not having enough booze to last his miserable day. To hear his nightmares left over from the war he fought in and not enough poison in his veins to calm him to bed. Sure my bruises grew in number, but it felt worth it.

 

That first time I actually poured his entire bottle of rum down the drain in our bathroom, I had felt free. Powerful. And he caught me. He took it out on my body. He made me pay for every drop and he made me feel like finally I was being a “good wife” all at once. I hated it, but I couldn't stop myself from wanting his approval.

 

That’s when I started pumping. I wanted to have the body to take care of our child. I needed too. While Nate went to the bar I would pull out the hand pump Cogsworth had ordered for me, and sit in the closet in Shaun’s room until dawn. It still didn't work enough. And I was terrified of losing face with Nate.

 

By the time the Fallout happened, we had reacted a tenuous sort of peace. Nate used me when he needed, I did everything I could to be the mother Shaun deserved. But Nate still didn't think I deserved to hold him, or keep him safe as we ran for our lives. After all… it was /his/ service that allowed us safety. It was by /his/ love for me that he allowed me to be the mother of his son. It was all him. So the vault filled us into the pods, and for the first time he let me walk ahead of him. I felt free. He let me kiss our baby, and even hushed Shaun's fussing with praise that his /mommy/ would be right back. I had never felt more loved. For that moment, when we raised our hands with our rings shining brightly in the dim light to press them to the glass, I fell in love again. I felt… safe.

 

I wonder now… did he let me go first because he was afraid? Did he want to see what would happen in these strange pods before he himself joined in? Was it just self preservation?

 

Or did, for once, maybe for the only time, he trust me? Maybe even love me as his equal? Did he want me safe?

 

Doctor Alamarri looks at me, turning away from her terminal and scanner. The results are in her hands and I am shaking.

 

“I’m… so sorry. The results confirm the presence of Radiation. You will not be able to nurse your son… when you find him.”

 

And with that, I have nothing left to offer my boy. A failed wife, a failed mother, and all I can do is get up and grab the pack of cigarettes from the table. She doesn't even care that I stole from right in front of her. There is a tightness to her eyes that says she understands. I don't care to hear that story.

 

I walk out instead, and on the corner of a dirty alley in Good neighbor, I light up and take a long drag. This is who I am now. The ache in my breasts, calling attention to what I had tried so hard to keep going, it’s just another echo of Nate. Failed, flawed, wasted, worthless…

  
Lucky. 


	2. Monotone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well... It /is/ Goodneighbor.

Halfway through this pack of cigs is about when my throat starts hurting. Honestly it did after the first drag, but that pain was easier to deal with than what was going through my head.

 

I’d wanted to find my son, raise him up, protect him. Now all I could think about was what if I had found him, fed him from my oh so carefully maintained body, and poisoned him in the process. I went over and over again through the past weeks and more. What had I ate? Where had I walked? Had I ever been slipped a drug? Could one get second hand exposure and then radiation?

 

Chances were very good there wasn't research into this. Even better that it didn't fucking matter anymore. Even if I did find him, what had been done to /him/ in this godforsaken wasteland. Did those bastards that took him even know how to care for a baby?! And why… why the hell would they?! What was the point?!

 

Out of the hundreds in those Cryo-cells, they took a baby. The next angry drag brushed my fingers. I hadn't paid attention to the ash lingering on the end of my own brand of poison. I glanced at it, the hot coal pulsing against the tender flesh where the skin sizzled. I didn't even care, why should I care? Footsteps shuffled at the entrance to the alley and only then did I carelessly discard the still smoldering butt. It was habit, it was death. A slow suicide and I fucking knew it. That same habit reached into the pack and lit up with a scavenged flip lighter.

 

“Whoa. Haven't seen you ever light up sister. Finally letting loose a little?”

 

A coarse voice drifted to me and I simply cocked my head back to glare half heartedly.

 

“Why, did /you/ want to lecture me on my healthy habits and the virtues of them?”

 

Wouldn't it have been nice if my voice has come off cocky and witty? Maybe even charming or coy. But no, it was dead. Resigned and numb, practically on synth level for emotions. What was that word?

 

On yeah. Monotone.

 

Bring the little stick to my face, inhale, bring away, hold breath, inhale some more, exhale slow. Monotone suited me in that moment. It made sense, more than anything else did. Whatever could be the matter with being just… being.

 

I heard nothing from Hancock. Not a chuckle or a gasp or a chuff. He was silent, and /that/ I didn't like or need. Silence from him meant he was thinking. Studying a /problem/ and trying to find a solution.

 

Well I wasn't his fucking problem now was I? Which meant, he didn't need to solve me in any capacity. I ignored him, pointedly smoking and looking at the wall. He didn't seem dissuaded unfortunately. His shuffling steps took him closer to my side. Until he was right next to me, his face looming closer to mine with that smug grin on his scared features, and I kept my composure. He plucked the cig from between my fingers and only then did I acknowledge him. With a numb stare I watched him take a long drag and exhale it with an even wider smile than usual.

 

“Babe, you look like shit.” I snapped out of my daze. My hip holster held a knife and it was in my hand before the half burnt cigarette hit the cracked pavement. I lunged, he sidestepped. The blade I held was long and sharp, no less than a Machete really as I swung it for his neck. He smirked and deftly moved aside.

 

But I didn't see him dancing out of range of each downward swipe.

 

“You look like shit. Fix your face would you? You can't see /people/ like that.”

 

Staring into a mirror, my bruises and busted lip showing through the caked powder. I didn't have any other makeup to cover it. Maybe… a bit of water and that would work? I had made a mess trying to make a paste from powders and a little water. It was cracking, my face was literally cracking and it still wouldn't cover the bruise.

 

“You look like shit…”

 

The night after he beat me and passed out. He accused me of being hungover. That’s why I didn't duck, or better keep my fucking mouth shut so I wouldn't make him mad.

 

“Look, I’ll stop sleeping around when you don't look like shit.”

 

After having Shaun, the scar on my stomach was crooked and pocked. The stretch marks in so many places. The sagging belly and breasts from pumping and carrying him.

 

“Hah! Look at you, ugh. You look like shit.”

 

The first and only time we had sex and I hadn't hurt. I came hard, so pent up. And my milk had sprayed all over myself and the bed. I thought he would be angry, but he was laughing. It was almost affectionate. But then he had said I needed to clean it up and we couldn't do it again until I stopped /that/ whatever it was.

 

I caught him later that day talking to his buddy about how sick and wrong I was. Perverse. He had patronized me, mocked me. In the end, I couldn't be more.

 

It was his voice I slashed at. His face I saw when I finally nicked his eyebrow. Him I screamed at, primal and something feral. It was Nate I launched into, knocking him back to the hard concrete and holding my knife to his throat.

 

It was him I sneered at as I pressed it closer to his skin, relishing that tiny tiny drop of red.

 

“Well, I don't need to be dolled up to kill you do I bastard?”

 

He licked his lips, I saw fire and lust in them and I nearly snarled.

 

“Actually, that's fucking hot babe.”

 

That… wasn't Nate. The hands on my hips, the way he looked at me, the features all wrong. All /Ghoul/ and leering at me like I was something… I don't even know what.

 

But I had /feeling/ again. Clarity and pain, sound and sensation and I did not like it. I scrambled off of him, or tried to. But his hands on my hips held me firm. Deceivingly strong arms Pinned my thighs to his body and large hands rubbed circles over the indents just at my hip bone. I went to pull away the knife, to drop it and not be in this situation and his lips formed a pout.

 

“And this was just getting fun too. Well damn it, I guess it was worth a try right?”

 

He released me then and I lurched to me feet. Sheathing the large knife to my thigh and just… standing there. I could feel the ache in my fingers now from the burns. I could smell the piss and radiation from the nearby manhole cover. I could hear the din of music from under our feet. I could see Hancock, just laying there for a moment more watching me.

 

He sighed and got up, pulling at the lapels of his coat and brushing off the sleeves with a scowl. The back was filthy honestly from where he had been laying on the dirty street. But I wasn't going to mention it. In fact.. I had no intention of saying anything. Whatever had just happened was too much and all I wanted to do was run.

 

Maybe cry… but I don't do that shit anymore. Running sounded nice. I turned and brushed past him, when his arm shot out to grasp firmly to my wrist.

 

“Oh no you don't sister, you owe me a drink for that stunt. Sexy as it was, you nearly ruined my coat!”

 

His arm was linked with mine before I had the chance to say anything. There wasn't even a moment to tense and pull away, he simply guided the momentum of my stride to follow his path instead. Into the Third Rail and down into the noise.

 

All I wanted was that peaceful monotone and I couldn't manage words in this strange language of emotions to say it.

  
  



	3. Paint it Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a time lapse back to the journey to Goodneighbor, and a look into the relationship between Piper and Blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kind comments!! This next part is a bit confusing perhaps in how the time lapses happen. But I wanted to expand on my SS's relationships with others. Don't worry! We shall find her name soon.

Good neighbor had no right to be so bright and cheerful. That idiot at the gate sneering and threatening me with poorly veiled words or protection. I nearly just paid him to move on. That was until he wanted more than caps. Nick's hand on my arm held me back, Piper’s hiss of breath just to my left drew my eyes down the shadowed Street to the figure calmly stalking our way. An I didn't have time for this bullshit! 

 

It was supposed to be easy! Tracking a dog after finding the key under the chairs just below the stands… chasing memories and drug dreams and it all was taking far too long! And we didn't find the bastard. Well no, we found him, but not with Shaun. 

 

I didn't even let him finish talking, I launched into him heedlessly. I got my arm nearly ripped off in the process for my trouble. But in moments he was dead, my baseball bat wrapped in razors making a lovely paste of his head against the once cleanish concrete. 

 

Most of his head anyways. There was this… thing. It wouldn't crush under my boot. It wouldn't stop glinting clean and white with just a touch of tissue. Hell it wouldn't even let blood stick to it! And it pissed me off so I took it. A Synth component. His brain as it turned out and we would need it for one more step on the way to Shaun. 

 

Piper offered to come, concerned glances my way as I shifted uncomfortably in her home and feeling my breasts too full and stinging. I wasn't about to explain to anyone what I needed. It still was something to be ashamed of, privately done and not talked about. Nate had always lectured me about my more animalistic nature's that needed to be held quiet. 

 

But Nick was talking, saying there was a place we needed to go to and I couldn't just take 20 minutes to try and pump. Things would be fine just keep moving and maybe I could do something on the road. I had to keep it going, I couldn't let myself dry up. Shaun would be hungry. 

 

As ridiculous as it seems now, that was the thought that did it. I hissed a breath in and turned around away from Nick and Piper as I felt that dampness against my chest. And I felt tears prick behind my eyes. This was humiliating and wrong! I needed to be alone, so with tense words I said I would meet them and started for the door. 

 

But Piper held me back. She told Nick to give us some privacy and guided me to her partitioned room. She understood for some weird reason. She didn't judge me, she just helped. With soft words and gentle hands she got me to relax, even with everything screaming in me that I was being some pathetic animal. But she told me about her mother, how the early years were for her and Nat. How she had wished she could help more and how she watched her own mother struggle to provide. 

 

But her mother couldn't do it, the radiation had poisoned her body just the same way as every other woman in the Commonwealth. And that was when the fear set in. She must have realized it too, because we stopped talking then. The pain in my chest eased as she helped me funnel what little I had into glass Nuka Cola bottles she had washed and capped them. We would have to get rid of the milk soon, but not yet. I couldn't do that just yet. We didn't have a way to keep it cold, not really. But she got it, that I couldn't just toss it. It was for my baby, and the pain I felt at being parted from him was clearly reflected in her eyes as well.

 

Blessedly silent she took my vault suit and cleaned it for me. She gave me clothing and helped encourage me to dress. Complimenting my figure in the freshly laundered dress and saying she wished she had a comb so she could braid my hair… it was strange and welcome a kind of comfort I once had in my sisters. But this time I was the younger of us two. 

 

And that small voice in my mind clicked out the time saying there wasn't any to waste on this! She would nod at my frustrated pacing, and tell me “Ten minutes to dry your suit and get some sleep, then we go.” 

 

But that ten minutes she repeated for hours and I fell asleep whether I wanted to or not. Nick woke me, even though he was trying to be quiet. I found myself curled up with a tiny Nat against my chest and my hands soothing down her hair. I hadn't meant to take her bed, but she obviously didn't seem to care. Piper was trying to explain to Nick in hushed voices about my breakdown. Or what I felt as my breakdown. But she didn't say it like that. She was too kind, too full of love and affection. And I didn't want to hurt her… but I didn't deserve anything she wanted to give me. 

 

Untangling myself from a twelve year old girl that wants to cuddle proved to be too difficult without waking her. But she smiled and hugged me. 

 

“You smell like mom… I miss her.” 

 

And I tensed and wanted to push her away. But that would be cruel. Piper once again saved me, having heard us up and about. She lunged for Nat, tickling her and teasing her about being such a cute little girl. It made me smile, and that almost hurt worse. 

 

Breakfast was happy. Almost domestic and normal. We ate together, I sternly told Nat to finish her milk and not just pick out the marshmallows from her sugar bombs, she pouting and stuck her tongue out at me before doing just that…. It hurt! It all hurt! It was wrong, it wasn't my family! 

 

Piper was far too chatty and I nearly snapped at her to shut the hell up and grab her gear. And then there was Nick, a hand on my back pushing me to leave the house with charming words about looking as some more Intel and map  routed or some other bullshit. Piper bought it, went to pack, and I went with Nick. 

 

Still in a dress I got more looks than I liked. And Nick smiled for me, smoothed over the gawking with some story or another to each curious person. By the time we made it to his office I was nearly a wreck again. But as soon as that door shut he went quiet and distant. Handing me papers filled with things to read about nothing that pertained to me. I glared at him, and he shrugged. 

 

“I can be the bad guys for you now that Kellogg is dead. I can do that or I can give you some others that deserve it, but you need to be able to be around people. There are a lot of then, and all the good ones will want to help. So if you have to be angry, and I get that you do, then don't do it at them.” 

 

I didn't have anything to say to that. He was right of course. It bothered me that he wouldn't look at me properly, that he held himself away a bit. But even that didn't make sense. 

 

I busied myself with his cases, reading and writing out holes in the investigation and evidence that didn't line up. It was familiar and bit odd. My law degree had been a joke back in the day, something I hadn't wanted but something that was closer to my personal goals than Nate had wanted for me. A compromise. But my passion was History back then, and that was before I was married. Whatever I did now was some strange distorted reflection of what I had always wanted to be. 

 

But it carried me through and the day passed in a haze of gunfire and running and a few breaks for Piper to help me with my supply of milk. That part… that I was starting to be hopeful for. But what she said about her mother, it stuck. It fueled us both with a kind of desperation to get to Good neighbor and this Doctor. We didn't have to say it out loud, we both knew what the question would be. 

 

And by the time we entered the gates I was done with people and patience. The Mayor wasn't who I wanted to see, I hated his smooth talking and his face scared the hell out of me all at once. Be polite Nate had drilled into me. So I was, charming and soft spoken, nice when I didn't want to be. With Piper and Nick holding me steady.

 

Hancock left with promises of another time, we moved on to the Memory Den. 

 

The temptations were overwhelming, to just go back to see Nate and Shaun alive and well. But after being through Kellogg's mind… I didn't want to put on a show for the doctor. She thought I was upset at Nate dieing. She mistook my tears and shaking hands as remorse and sadness. What she didn't know, couldn't know, was swearing to him that I would find who had hurt him… it was a command drilled into my soul. Do right by our family, never let Nate down, obey… obey obey obey. And if I didn't, I wasn't worth shit. 

 

Out of the memory of a mecinary that I felt more sympathy for than my dead husband… I felt fear. For a moment, just a single moment, Nick was not himself and he reminded me so much of Nate. But he came back to himself quick enough, and I couldn't help the small bit of doubt that stayed behind. 

 

What if he changed while alone with me. 

 

The answer came quickly. You can take it. You always have. It isn't his fault. 

 

Piper pulled me away from Nick, away from asking him more questions and away from racing out to run full tilt into the Glowing sea consequences be damned. 

 

We had to know. 

 

Hancock pushes me down into a stool at the bar and I glare at him. The noise is overwhelming down here! 

 

“So how many drinks do I have to buy to get the fuck away from you?” 

 

He smiles and chuckles at me, shaking his head and pushing me a drink. 

 

“Enough to forget what a charming bastard I can be.” 

 

I scowl, take the drink and down it, coughing and gaggin my way through the after taste and the burn that I just barely remember as being alcohol. What the hell right? I don't need to protect my body anymore. 

 

“I’d need enough to remember that you are charming in the first place.” 

 

He laughs and grabs another round. And I lean my head against the bar. What the fuck is wrong with this place?! It’s too bright and cheerful even at night. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize profusely for misspellings and errors. Comments welcome!! My plot bunnies demand my full attention so updates soon!


	4. Loosen Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We change perspectives a touch as Harper experiences the Goodneighbor Hospitality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!! There is a POV change for the next few chapters. I hit a major snag in writing and one of the best writers I have ever met offered to Role Play the rest of this segment out! So enjoy!

The Third Rail always smelled the same, a mixture of Charlie's booze, sweat, and, at times, the place was hung heavy with the scent of blood.

 

Hancock was well aware of his position, after Harper had tried to disembowel him, yeah, he could've just killed her. No one would blame him, some lady goes crazy on him. He would've blamed himself, though.

 

In the moments, fleeting as they were, that they were falling, he caught her gaze. It was the type of look he had gotten after his own brother had become a monster, turned on good people just because the 'normal' crowd didn't approve.

 

The same look he'd gotten when Vic had realized just how fucked he really was, watching Hancock and his crew march into his room in the State House to string that bastard up. It was a personal kind of anger that didn't allow for moping anger aimed outward, didn't matter who or what. It was the type of anger that would drive a man to nearly kill himself doing all the drugs he could get his hands on.  
  
That was why he couldn't just let his instinct as the head honcho kick in. No more standing by and watching.   
  
He'd got her to sit, got her to start drinking, and, after a few drinks, he finally was prepared to speak. He wasn't even close to his limit, but had the sense she'd probably never hit the bottle this hard in her life.

 

He turned his attention to her, his eyes vast and murky, full of the darkest of darks, but also the lightest of light. A hero and a villain. The ghoul spoke without restraint, being as straight as possible, "Alright, sister, I know where it was you came from. Now, most folk leave the Memory Den feeling better than they had when they went in, but not you. So, normally I don't like poking around in other people's business, but this different."

 

He leaned on the bar, reaching into his coat, "Before we go any further..." He pulled a syringe full of a clear liquid out of his pocket, offering it to her, "Not sure if this is your style, but, trust me, I know when someone needs a fix, and you're overdue, sister."

 

He set it on the bar in front of her, "Then let's talk about why you took me down with intentions to kill."

 

She took another drink when it was offered. Feeling more than tasting the burn of whatever shit he had seen fit to gift her with.   
  
Then he had started /talking/ and she glared her way through another shot with her head on her arm on the bar.   
  
But she snapped too quick enough when the syringe hit the cold surface she had been laying on. She sat up, staring at it wide eyed and wondering... Why she hadn't before? No.. Maybe if she should now? There was an inherent fear there of doing something so unseemly.... And a deeper fear that told her she obviously needed medication if /chems/ were the best option. And she had been off her medication for nearly a year now... All for Shaun.   
  
And he wasn't here, and she couldn't have him... And her hand closed around the tiny Vial of the best damn thing to help her. At least she figured it must be.   
  
But as she rolled up her sleeve the upraised scars and pockets burn marks caught on the fabric and she winced at the ghost pain.   
  
It was old news now, most assumed she got then from Raiders or something. But she had never met a raider that put out a cigarette into the upper arm of the person they wanted to kill first... Not yet anyways.   
  
She risked a glance at John, feeling the weight of a stare as more of her arm was shown. It wasn't like no one had seen them... If anything it just felt like it meant more now. That and the branded 'N' on the joint of her elbow.   
  
She placed the needle against the other faded track marks. Gratefully acknowledging that at least she would hit a vein for sure. Those were from trained Doctors and their attempts to feed her and restore blood to her body. Not to mention the drug trails and the proposed lobotomy.     
  
And still her hand shook, she never had done this herself before... She sighed and lifted the needle away from her arm to hand the whole thing back to Hancock.   
  
"I don't know how... Care to help a gal out?"   
  
She scooted closer and laid her arm out on the counter. Waiting for him.   
  
But the way she was so exposed... Doing something like this and not even one dirty look from anyone.. Maybe things were different now. Maybe it would be okay to talk.   
  
"Sorry I nearly killed you. I thought you were my husband for a second there. And... I'm not drunk enough yet to talk about the memory den.."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of Hancock's work not done by me. Big thank you to my amazing new coauthor! You can find him on Facebook under John McDonough.


	5. Exchanging Burdens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chems may not have been the best idea. Certainly not booze either. But Harper becomes far more honest and Hancock gets more than he planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on you will see breaks between out replies. We did this on Facebook so each comment goes back and closes up a thread of the last.

Hancock sat entirely still, watching her grab the vial, his eye mainly on the needle. Usually if he passed someone something, he'd be fishing something else out for himself, but this time it was different. 

 

She drew back her sleeve and a bile rose in the back of the Mayor's throat, sweet mother of all things. Beneath it all, a rage burst to life behind the scenes, and he decided that if he ever met the person or people responsible for those scars, he'd pull their heart out through their throat, and string them up for everyone to see. 

 

Raiders seemed logical, but then, from what he'd heard, this chick was from a vault, came to Goodneighbor specifically for the Memory Den. He didn't want to imagine the people in the Vault did that, but, at the same time, she hadn't been out in the wastes long enough for wounds like these to scar. 

 

Then, of course, there was that 'N'. He withheld any emotion, keeping his eyes fixed on the needle, now.   
  
Of the people, for the people.   
  
She spoke, breaking his concentration, and his gaze fell back to the scarring. "That's what I'm here for, sister. To help.", he seemed to put more meaning behind his words than simply lending her a hand reaching a high that, hopefully, what help her relax. 

 

He meant help fix all her problems, old and new. He grabbed the needle in his right hand, sliding his left fingers up her arm, pressing down on her elbow joint, right over the 'N'. 

 

He couldn't hold it back, speaking in a whisper, made all the more unsettling thanks to his condition, "I kinda hope the bastard responsible for this shows up here...I enjoy killing people who deserve it." Once her vein was good and visible, he lifted the needle, "Relax, sister, I've done this a hundred times." 

 

He sank the needle into her flesh, penetrating the vein before slowly depressing the plunger. He released her elbow, allowing her heart to move the drug along, "Now, about that talk."

 

*******

 

Her heart clenched strangely at his offer to help. She could hear a weight to it... And it didn't make sense? Help what? Her?! Lowly, pathetic woman that she was that had to be protected from everything and everyone including herself?! How could he possibly see her and think she could be helped.    
  
But his rough fingers touched her arm and then that brand... And she flinched, wincing and drawing a Hiss through her teeth as she waved Charlie over for more booze. It was instinct that had her eyes snapping up to his, a bit of fury still swimming in them with his whispered threat.    
  
"You can't! He... He was just trying to help me that's all. Besides... He's my husband, he has a right to mark what is his."    
  
But that needle slid into her arm and the sting that followed made her sigh. It was always this way, she knew the pain would bring healing soon... Although these were chems not her medications. But she knew what the doctors told her, and she was lucky to have been held out of asylums just because Nate took care of her.    
  
"I'm a bad wife... I would have killed Nate. But he only was trying to help me. I can't leave the house looking like shit. Bruises are not easy to cover up ya know?"   
  
With the alcohol pumping through her system... And the Chem just starting to take hold she slumped a little on the bar. Her eyes glazed over and she turned to face Hancock.    
  
"The talk? Oh! I... Failed my son. The memory wasn't so bad, Nate died and all but... I can't feed my son now. I've been poisoned with radiation. So... So yeah, I'm a failure. See I need him to help me too. I'm sorry.."

 

*******

 

Hancock laughed, a knowing sort of laugh, "Can't. I think I'll be the judge of what I can and can't do in my own town." The fact she was defending this piece of shit just made the Mayor's contempt for the unknown man worse. Brainwash and abuse. "I don't know what you called it before the war...but nowadays we call 'marking your property' a part of slavery. You know, the activity of collecting and using or selling humans, ghouls, or synths as if you have some right to do so." His eyes narrowed, but he held back his desire to respond in anger, this particular case needed finesse, not force. "You shouldn't be wandering around with bruises that need covering up in the fist place.", he replied coolly, releasing her arm. He guessed it was the Buffjet he took earlier, but it almost felt like a mirror image of the 'N' in the small of her elbow was imprinted on his thumb. He idly rubbed the pad of his thumb against his index finger, trying to rid himself of the sensation.   
  
He wasn't sure if he was feeling pity or disgust, the pity would've been aimed at her, for all the pain she'd been forced to endure, or if he was disgusted that anyone could treat someone they claimed to love so badly. "Being poisoned with radiation ain't so bad.", he said, trying to drag her out of the misery, "Couple Radaway flushing your system will fix you right up. You're not a failure until you give up on yourself. You're still here. You haven't blown your own head off, and you haven't just laid down and let the world kill you. As long as you keep fighting, that makes you a success, and don't let nothing your spouse told you before change that fact."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I cannot thank my brilliant partner enough! Comment and let us know what you think!!


	6. Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trips are bad for Harper. And poor John didn't know what he was singing up for.

Everything felt... Heavy. Sluggish and off and she crumpled forward on the bar as his words washed over her.    
  
"Slave? N-no.. It's jus... So they know who's I am when their... Done. I should... Go wait in the cellar now.."    
  
She knew this feeling. This was her medicine kicking in. Nate always stressed and lectured her on what to do. How she was to keep quiet because her episodes would be bad. She needed to go wait for him to take care of her... Or one of his friends. That was what the N was for.    
  
"They... Help a lot of us. The marry us to protect us. Thas... All."    
  
Her words were slurred as she perlrd herself away from the surface. Out of habit she grabbed his hand, tugging him with her as her eyes glazed over and she moved to stand.    
  
But that last thing... The radiation. It felt so distant but she stiffened anyways, her eyes going wide and frantic as she scanned this place to find his face glaring at her. She didn't see him yet... But he would be furious!    
  
"I was stupid. If I hadn't checked... I could have poisoned my baby! D-dont... Don't tell... Please I'll do anything just... Just don't tell him!"   
  
She was losing her grip on reality. Her episode coming faster and her knees nearly buckling as she tried to make for the door. Where was she?! Where was she supposed to go?!    
  
She could taste bile rising in her throat and her vision was darkening and swimming as she tried to pull Nate's friend with her to the stairs. That had to be it! She had to get to the... The cellar where was it?!    
  
But this whole place was dark. Why did the shut off the lights?! She could be good, she hadn't done anything wrong had she?! But she couldn't remember and her heart was pounding so loudly.    
  
She looked to the man she had grasped, her whole body shaking.    
  
"H-help me? Please, I'm sorry, don't turn off the lights! I'll be good I promise!"

 

************

The Mayor didn't respond immediately, laying a hand on her shoulder to make sure she stayed in her seat. The words echoed in his head: 'Know who's I am when they're...done'. His guts twisted up as the realization hit him like a bullet to the gut: He had whored her out. He glanced around slowly, some people who had overheard, understood as Hancock had, were wearing expressions of something damn close to horror.   
  
"Alright, sister, let's get you up into the State House.", he said, this prior to the real issues. She kept talking, this time something about how 'they' take care of 'us'. Shit was going South really fast, and he needed to get her out of there before this trip went too far. He'd seen bad before, but every junkie instinct in his body told him this woman was heading for one of those soul-changing, fucked up trips that turned you off that particular drug for a couple months, or, at least, a week.   
  
He was being pulled along, and, mostly, was just going along with it now. "Alright, yeah, the cellar..." Dear God, she was stronger than she looked. He gave Fahrenheit a look as he was pulled toward the stairs that said everything he didn't: We need to get her out of her. Now.   
  
He felt like he was caught in some kind of weird nightmare, dropping to a crouch as she looked up at him, this time talking about not turning lights off. "Easy, easy." He scooped her up, Farenheit close behind as the Mayor made his way up the stairs, "I'm gonna take care you, sister, you can trust ol' Hancock, I've got you." He was at the top of the stairs in no time, "Hey, listen, what I need you to do is just close your eyes, the lights are off so you can sleep, alright. You're not in trouble, I promise. You've been very, very good, but you've got to listen to me, ok?"   
  
Fahrenheit probably had never heard him sound worried before, but now she was seeing him acting like a doctor, talking down a panicking patient. He kept whispering similarly soothing things, mostly repeatedly telling her that she's been better behaved than ever before, insisting she goes to sleep, and promising she'll be rewarded in the morning.   
  
When he got up into his room in the State House, he laid her on one of the couches, "No one comes in until she's come back to herself, not even the guards. Understood?" Fahrenheit nodded, "Yeah, I got it." She ushered the guards out, and took up a position at the bottom of the stairs, within calling distance, but in a position to keep anyone who tried to get in out. Hancock knelt beside Harper's bedside, as it were, lightly brushing his fingers through her hair.

 

********** 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this talented Hancock I have to thank John McDonough!! Such an amazing writer, my God!


	7. Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The grip of the Chems on Harper is much tighter than reality. But strangely.. It's all a bit familiar too.

He picked her up and she shook like a leaf, clinging to him and resting her head against his chest. This was the worst part... The part where they act tender and she wanted so much to believe him.    
  
He was nicer than the others. But if Nate found out, she wasn't sure she would survive next time. She couldn't betray him... But this man was so comforting. And she could feel how the meds were making her body ache now. She couldn't quite breathe right and ever jostle as he carried her up made it worse.    
  
And there is was. Close you eyes and go to sleep. She knew what happened next. Always the same thing, that in the morning she would get a treat. As long as she was good... And he kept telling her had been very good. She couldn't remember it! Why couldn't she remember it?!    
  
He seemed so nice too... Maybe he was gentle? Maybe she hadn't hurt after... Maybe...    
  
She lost the train of thought as her eyes slipped shut. She whimpered at the dark but bit her lip hard enough to bleed to scold herself. She knew they hated those sounds. She had to be stronger than this.    
  
Her arm ached, a phantom pain now but there all the same. But the bed he laid her in was softer that she was used to.    
  
And he was telling her to sleep, being so terribly gentle. It made her want to cry. She wanted to... Obey him. But she wanted to remember too!    
  
As soon as the room was quiet she sat up, her eyes wide and her hands flying to undo her pants. If she didn't do this quickly... She already should have been wearing a dress. What would he think?!    
  
Disgraceful.. Pathetic... Trying so hard and always coming short. But she knew her place when the episodes hit. Even as the darkness felt like it was choking her. Even when the fear of pain and Nate's anger overwhelmed her... She didn't want his friend to be in trouble.    
  
"You're... Nice. You can't.. Can't do that! He'll know and then you're going to get hurt. Or your wife will.. I know you all care for us. I'll close my eyes I promise. I'm sorry I didn't... You don't have to like me, I know he is asking you to help me. I'll just be quiet please just tell him I did a good job?"    
  
She couldn't quite see him and that made it worse. He looked like a shape... And there were other shapes too. In the corners of her eyes she could see him watching. Her arms itched and her body felt heavy but she was trying to not slap away the hands that grabbed at her.    
  
It would all be over soon if she just did what she was supposed to..

 

**********

  
Hancock had seen bad trips, but this was legitimately scaring him. The way she trembled in his arms, he felt like a monster just for touching her. Who did he think he was to think he could possibly help her? An addict? A man? The State House felt ominous now, empty as it was, nothing but the occasional voice outside reached him. He was caught off guard as she started trying to take her pants off, grabbing her wrists, "Hey, hey. Easy, remember. You're in a safe place, remember?" He opened and closed his hands a few times, was she actually scaring him? Was he...scared for her? He held his hands up, "Look, if you have to take your pants off, let me get you a blanket, at least. Alright?" He stood up, pulling his arms out of his coat, pushing all his drug paraphernalia off the coffee table, laying his coat on the surface.   
  
He couldn't believe he was doing this, the situation, the circumstances, made him feel filthy. If it helped her situation, helped her relax, then she deserved to have that relief. He didn't like the sound of 'I'll be quiet please tell him I did a good job', in fact, the whole short monologue was weighing on him. Her husband was lower than anyone Hancock had ever met, less than the slime you'd get on your boots walking through sewers. He'd killed him if they ever crossed paths, and he'd make the pain last as long as possible. "Open your eyes, sister.", he said, softly. He did as she wanted, draping his coat over her after setting her pants on the coffee table. "He ain't gonna hurt anyone, and, for the record, I do like you, but you're not yourself right now." He sat down, taking his Tricorn Hat off, setting it on the table beside the pants.   
  
He grabbed her hand, "Everything's gonna be alright. Just, relax, and don't worry about me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously... This dude. My amazing Coauthor as always is the talented John McDonough on Facebook RP!!


	8. Stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John... We need to get you an account her darling so I can credit your properly. My lovely Coauthor strikes again! Enjoy!

Just relax... Her pants were gone and he still let her have some modesty. If she slept now.... Then he could be free to do what he needed and she wouldn't have to stay awake.    
  
And sleep seemed so nice.. He seemed so nice. She laid back down and settled herself, or tried to. Safe. It had been a long time since she had believed that. She was told she being kept safe. But was this what it really felt like?    
  
She knew now that if Nate walked in she could maybe lie her way out. Say they had already finished... Or that his friend didn't want her. Both Nate would probably believe, so long as he was drunk.    
  
This man reached out his hand to hold hers, and she grasped his. His fingers felt rough, but warm. And he wasn't hurting her...    
  
She turned her head, and could help but smile at him. It was soft and fond, something she didn't do often but right now..  It was that weird safe feeling.    
  
" If Nate comes back early, he keeps his liquor in the closet. If he's drunk enough... He won't ask any questions."    
  
That felt like betrayal to say, but she looked convincing the way she was... And she was exhausted already.    
  
His coat smelled nice too, like another kind of warmth and a bit of tobacco and gunpowder. Behind it all the smell of old books and she giggled softly as she pressed her nose into his collar and yawned.    
  
"I like you too. You're nice.."    
  
Sleep gathered her up from there, despite knowing she shouldn't. For some reason... It was like tonight was an special exception.    
  
She didn't hurt. That was new.

 

***************

  
Hancock had gone from being a Mayor to some kind of head doctor in a matter of minutes, something he didn't mind. That was the thing about him: He would have rather gone out of his way for her and gone through all of this than let her figure her own way around her pain. He laid back on the floor of the State House, "I'll keep that in mind, don't worry, I'll get him to drink enough that he'll forget about everything else." Her smile was something he didn't see all that often, genuine, and meaningful. Not a passing gesture. He got the distinct feeling that didn't happen all that often.   
  
She seemed to enjoy the way his coat smelled, a small comfort, he supposed. He closed his eyes, "You got that right.", he replied, entirely incapable of being modest when he felt like what she was saying was true. He left his hand in hers, setting his Tricorn Hat over his face, stretching his legs out in front of him. He could get used to this, maybe not with her, he didn't want to see her like that ever again unless she wanted it, but helping others turn their bad trips into something less shitty. Yeah, he could do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment appreciated!! Let us know how we are doing? We also take prompts. So please fire away!

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought and if I should continue this work? Please and thank you and pass the wine.


End file.
